Where the Eyes Open
by Metruis
Summary: Wake up where the Jedi hide--where the eyes open. Where the Sith seek to control dimensions beyond their own. Where the Force is a tool and the light side a laugh. Where Obi-Wan must now live, if he wants to save his own universe from distruction. AU.
1. Chapter 1 Close to the Dark Side

**Where The Eyes Open  
**_A Star Wars AU_

**Genre: **_Drama, action._

**Rating: **_PG-13 for action sequences, mild language, and angst._

**Disclaimer/Author's note: **_This is where I would normally put a bit of an explanation as to what this is all about. But I won't, I know it'll explain as it goes. Pay attention. The chapter beginning quotes will explain history—and as I update, the characters will explain the AU. This is a Star Wars alternate universe fic. It means it wouldn't happen, and cannot happen, canonically. It does not contain any weird pairings or slash. Just a bunch of violence and angst quantum mechanics and things that aren't canon. Lucas owns all but the bunch of original characters and places and things, which if you're lazy enough to steal… whatever…_

_I dedicate this story to Amidala Skywalker. You challenged me to write, to write well, and to write Star Wars. You'll be missed and your return awaited. And when I write __**The End**__ on this story, that's for you._

**Cover: **Fanfic does NOT like URLs. If you go to Jedi. net, to the Jedi Library, find the thread for this story--my images are collected in there, including chapter headers.

**-Prologue-**

Look.

See?

This is the galaxy.

It unfolds beneath your feet. Look, see—see the fragments and shadows and broken stars that fill this blank with color. See the planets…

…ships…

……people……

And the dark. It's only occasionally broken when you look closer and see just how large this galaxy underneath your bare feet is.

Take a step.

Breathe.

It fills your lungs with black.

See, these planets? A yellow gem, a blue stone, an earthen orb, an obsidian marble only shattered by sparks of gold. Name them. Coruscant. Sullust. Yavin. Kashyyyk. Utapau. And stars… they gleam with life and death. They ask a question; is there Light, or is there Dark? Which is it that binds this galaxy together? So many thoughts and questions to penetrate as you're drawn closer to this black hole, a void and vacuum that drains all life and matter into an untouchable maw. It's there, it grabs your mind…

…You can't step away.

Its eyes have been opened.

You—

**-Chapter One-**

"_It was the closest I ever saw him to the dark side." -Kenobi_

"Master!" The heavy patter of footsteps is abnormal to the grace and peace that floods this Temple with sophistication and seems to shatter that mood. "Master, Master!" Qui-Gon Jinn turned at the voice screeching out his title and lifted a hand to stop his overly eager apprentice midstep as he grew quickly closer. No need, Tanon Young flew to a halt, his polished black boots skidding and shrieking on the white floor until he stopped a couple feet away from his tall Master. He gasped for breath, chest rising up and down. "I've been looking all over for you!"

"I am here." Qui-Gon gave him an admonishing look. "And you should have long learned your lesson, my apprentice—one cannot simply dash through the halls like a madman. Have you any idea how foolish you look?"

Tanon glanced away, not looking quite as ashamed as he should have. "Sorry, Master. It won't happen again, Master."

"I'm quite sure." There was a lingering undertone of knowledgeable sarcasm. Qui-Gon knew perfectly well that nothing short of space tape and a wall would hold his eager apprentice still for more than a few minutes. And even that was sometimes doubtful. He was certain that Tanon could make an escape if he was really that eager.

_I trained him well, _thought Qui-Gon ruefully, then added. "Well, I am here. What is it, my young apprentice."

Tanon snickered at that, and it took a moment before Qui-Gon caught the slip, and internally shook his head. This one had yet to learn control of his boundless emotions…

Then Tanon grinned. "They're doing a live showing of the game on the big screen, Master! Can I go? _Please?_"

_Which game? _thought Qui-Gon, and voiced it after a moment.

"The big holoball game against the Blitzers!" Tanon looked like he could rocket through the roof in his enthusiasm. "On the _big_ screen! The _really_ big screen! Raidis invited me! Can I go? Please, please, please? It's the final game of the season and if the Corusci Rangers win, they'll take home the cup!"

One side of Qui-Gon's mind sighed, and said the boy should not have been allowed to be obsessed with _sports_. The other side said that Tanon _was_ doing really well with his studies, and even if the boy was overly eager to go out with his friends simply to gaze at mindless action portrayed on a projector, he deserved a break occasionally. He wondered where that thought came from. No apprentice simply was _given_ a break. Such things had to be earned. But if he didn't give Tanon permission, the boy would simply sneak out and face the consequences, as dire as they could be.

Qui-Gon gave a heavy sigh. Tanon waited, rocking back and forth on his heels.

"All right," the Master finally said. He would cave in to the boy's wishes. It wasn't as if his Trials were near. "But you _must_ be back by 1500 hours. Our presence is required at the Dims Park."

"Yessir!" Tanon clasped his hands and bowed formally. "Thank you, sir!"

Qui-Gon watched with a heavy sigh as Tanon dashed back down the hall, disrespectful of the hallowed silence that filled the Temple with power. Eventually the boy would learn, and become more than Young, his apprentice. He would have to face his Trials, and whether or not he failed, he would learn his lesson.

The Sith Master straightened his drab black robes and headed off in the opposite direction. More proper activities awaited him than mindless sports.

* * *

"_He shoots! Look at that ball go! Is it going to—he scores! Unbelievable! The match continues!"_

Tanon swore. A group of his fellow apprentices were gathered around the holoscreen to eagerly watch the final match of the season. The room gleamed with blue light radiating from the screen. A few non-Force users had also joined them, and for once the boys didn't mind. As fans, they cheered and booed in all the right places, and for now it was _that_, not the Force, that mattered.

"Davon is an idiot!"

"He should have stopped that throw!"

A course of boos followed the beginning of the commercials, but they settled back in for the final round with their junk food as close companions once more. The thrilling match continued, until the final bell rang with a clang that echoed through the room, amplified by the huge speakers. The young Sith jumped up, yelping in excitement, the furthest from graceful they could possibly be. The Corusci Rangers had won, and yet again, they'd—

"—Take home the holo cup! And that's it, Coruscant, for the year end holoball!"

The planet's anthem began to play, ringing out over the gigantic speakers set up in the lounge.

"Hey, wanna go get some Hothies?" Andern suggested. There was a course of agreement, and the Sith apprentices began to gather up the remains of their snacks.

Tanon swore suddenly. "Huttslime!"

"What iszit? Run out'a Jawa Juice?" slurred one of his slightly older companions—this one had been old enough to legally get alcohol, and was close to inebriated.

Tanon shook his head. "I promised Master Jinn I'd be back—he'll have my kriffing hide!"

"It's only ten minutes late…"

"What, your Master doesn't skin you if you're late?" Ten minutes was ten minutes. Tanon scooped up a few more energy bars and shoved them into one of the pockets on his belt, dashing for the door. This was one time he couldn't spend lingering, hanging around to pick up snack foods and mood-altering substances. Ordinarily, he might have. But Qui-Gon had been quite specific, and Tanon didn't want to be on the dark side of his teacher's moods. The dark side of the Force was much less dangerous. "Great game, see you if I don't get skewered!"

"See ya!"

He spun through the door, leaving it swinging in his path. But Tanon didn't have far to go. Qui-Gon waited at the exit, arms folded and a disproving stare wrinkling his ordinarily calm features. He still seemed calm. Just more disgruntled than normal.

Tanon skidded to a halt inches from slamming into the foreboding figure of his teacher and clasped his hands, bowing deeply. "I'm sorry, Master. The game went into overtime."

"I'm sure." Qui-Gon set off in the direction of his speeder, a blue hotrod that seemed quite unfitting to his Master's austere personality.

No lecture? thought Tanon incredulously, as he hopped into the passenger's seat and buckled himself in. That was an anomaly. He _always_ got a lecture if he didn't obey orders down to the very stroke, letter, and dot.

The Master paced around the speeder, climbing gracefully in and pulling them out into traffic. They headed north, up towards Dims Park.

"I assume your companions played a part in your delay?" his teacher asked after a moment.

"I'm sorry, Master." Tanon stared out into the traffic, keeping his face expressionless.

"I assume you will remain sorry after spending a few hours in meditation—while cleaning the refreshers?"

Tanon grimaced. "Yes, Master. I'm sorry. I lost track of the time."

"At least you are honest."

Qui-Gon never signaled that the conversation was over, simply went back to his regal silence. Tanon decided it was better to not interfere, and leaned back, gazing at the speeders that passed them. They had right of way, as Sith—no one would interfere with official Sith business—but Qui-Gon rarely took advantage of that legal pull. They followed the calm speed of the traffic and eventually pulled off into a dive, heading down towards a huge, cleared area, filled with fountains.

The Imperial Palace wasn't so far from here; the Dims Park was the one right underneath the huge, impassable wall that surrounded the Palace. Mist made it hard to see for parking, but computerized routes led speeders through on a vector right into clear places, in a lot hidden just underneath the false ground.

Tanon was glad to jump back out and stretch his legs again, though it had been a short drive. He had already been sitting (mostly) for the entirety of the holoball game. Now—he assumed his Master had some sort of meeting or there was some event that was to occur in the park. Qui-Gon wasn't one for unnecessary exposition.

"Where are we going?" Tanon eventually ventured.

"A meeting."

_Hey, who called it? _he thought. "With who? Why?"

"With the Chief of Security. You certainly ask a great many questions today."

Tanon took that as a sign he should stop talking, and fell silent. He supposed he should try stay on Qui-Gon's good side from now. It wasn't every day you were apprenticed to a member of the Sith Council, after all.

* * *

"Hurry up!" cried Morthain Li through the rusted grate, and Anakin Skywalker winced, jerking back to reality—they were standing in a foot of stagnant water in stained robes, passing up younglings to Morthain, who leaned through the opening to pull them through. 

The roaring swell of water drawing closer could already be heard, bouncing off of the scum caked walls.

Anakin bent down and took the next youngling from Turgoes, passing her up through to Morthain. She vanished through the grate into safety. The other three were looking quite uneasy by the time, but Anakin gave them a reassuring smile. "We'll make it…"

They were passing up the Rodian, the second to last, when a frantic shout from the sentry broke them out of their meager hope.

"Lock up! Lock up!"

The sentry was safe; he had a sealed box. The Jedi, however—Anakin swore and jumped down, leaving Morthain to haul the Rodian boy up. He shoved Turgoes up and swept up the last girl from the water, leaping onto the ladder and clambering up.

A white wall of water rushed towards them.

Morthain slammed the cover over the entrance shut with a barely audible "Sorry, Skywalker." The scream of the water tore the voice away, and Anakin was barely able to shelter the girl from the torrent that smashed into them.

And then there was only a white roar of screaming water from above. It swept Anakin and his charge away, the surge of liquid sweeping them down into the depths of the Coruscanti sewer system. When it had settled, there was no trace of either Anakin or the young girl.

_A/N: And, for anyone who intends on reviewing, I love constructive criticism—by which, I mean, I love knowing what you think I've done right and wrong. However—I'd ask that you don't criticize things like "Why the heck is Qui-Gon a Sith?!" because—these are things relating to the AU that will be explained in time. Yes, some things in here don't seem right for "canon". That's because they're not. Constructive comments will be returned in kind. Flames will be ignored._


	2. Chapter 2  Down Once More

**-Chapter Two-  
**"_Rebreathers!" -A. Skywalker_

_Air._

_I need air! _screamed Anakin Skywalker's mind. He still held onto the youngling, but barely, and she was limp in the destructive whip of the current. Jerked in every which direction, it was only his waning focus that kept them occasionally surfacing into breaks where they could gasp for oxygen.

At first, her fingers had wrapped tightly around his, tearing holes in his heart as he fought to break surface. But now she was limp—he didn't know if she was still conscious or if there even was a chance she ever could be again. He could only hope. The water had stopped tearing at them, though, and now he didn't even know if they were sinking in the depths or floating up into blessed air.

Disorientation.

The world began to blur as his lungs screamed for relief. He had held his breath too long. Now, he floated in the warm embrace of languorous water, filthy liquid and steam and swampy green bubbles wrapping themselves around him. The bubbles carried air he could not access, stealing away precious life—

—Bubbles!

Anakin fought to shake himself free of the deathly calm that settled in and slammed a barricade around his mind to keep the steel fingers from breaking through his concentration. The bubbles floated up. And if there were bubbles, there had to be air somewhere…

He gasped on reflex and a mouthful of disgusting, mucky water filled his mouth. He steeled himself against choking and fought to meet the resolve that could pull him back to the surface. One arm held the limp youngling to his chest, the other pulled him in the direction the bubbles headed—his feet kicked frantically in a desperate gamble for survival. And then his search was rewarded and his head broke through the film of the water. He surfaced into a foot of air, the sewer roof mere inches overhead.

Foam writhed around his floating hair and sleeves as Anakin tread water and worked the flaccid girl back to the surface. He let her drift on top, one arm keeping her from getting so far away, and tread to stay there. Her chest was unmoving, eyes closed and hair in snakes over her face. He reached up and brushed it back into the swampy water. Algae seemed to be his only living companion—but he still sensed a spark of life in her.

The water level was dropping.

He drew her near, feeling her cold forehead. She was icy from overexposure to the water. If her cream garb had looked dull before, now she looked like a swamp monster. Anakin wasn't sure this was an improvement.

Pressing his own mouth to her blue lips, he blew air into her waterlogged lungs. Breath… breath… breath…

At long last she gagged, water dripping from her mouth—she struggled and he pulled her close to prevent her from sinking under once more. They stayed in breathy silence as the water continued to drop, whirling into a couple drains down far beyond their sight. Finally Anakin was able to stand and wade through five feet of remaining water, to where a ledge was slowly being revealed in the drainage. She clung to him until he set her down on the side and began to clamor heavily up himself.

An access ladder hung nearby, a few beams of stray light escaping through holes far up on the roof. Anakin cursed not noticing them before. Perhaps they would have led to an escape. Now they were too high up to reach. What else was there? A few tunnels draining water from the depths of the sewers into this holding tank—clearly they had fallen from one of them, but which one? He was far too disoriented to even venture a guess as to the direction they had been carried from.

He sighed, and began to wring the filth from his shoulder length mop of brown hair.

She sat down then, shivering but staying quiet as he finished with his hair and pulled his boots off to dump water from them. He shook his boots out, examining the dim interior of the sewer cavern. The room was long, with many culverts emptying water into the basin. A few drains evened out the flood of water and carried it off to be processed for reuse. There _was_ the ladder, but it had to lead up into Coruscant—the light said that much. And in their soggy, weed-covered peasant clothing, they would _not_ look right in the city. They would be snatched up in moments. And Anakin seriously doubted they were lucky enough to be right underneath an alley where a couple street rats could sneak through the dark side of the city and make it back to the Temples. His lightsaber still hung at his side, but it would surely be clogged with water by now and need time for the components to air out before he could do anything besides use it as decoration.

He didn't voice the concerns, though. Instead, he asked, "What's your name?"

"Bethani Htith," she murmured. The brown eyed girl didn't look as young as some of the other younglings. A small twelve, he thought. Though she had a high, tiny voice she had lost most of her baby fat and just didn't seem as young as some of the other children he had met.

"Well, Bethani," he greeted, "I'm Anakin Skywalker, and we're probably going to be stuck on top for a while. We might be in a lot of trouble. I'll need your help and cooperation if we're going to get back. Will you help me?"

She nodded, glancing down at the ledge shyly.

_Perfect! _he thought, without a trace of sarcasm. _She's cute and shy. Maybe she'll have a chance._

* * *

Five handmaidens kept out of the Empress's way as she completed her morning routine. There was always a guard at her side, always one of her female, non-Force sensitive trained maidens in the room. Here things were quieter, for anyone to get in to assassinate the Empress they would have had to break through walls of steel and bars of pure Force energy. The palace was protected by darkness itself.

It was safe for the handmaidens to keep their sticky, hot headpieces off, and three of them lounged off duty in the living room, chattering aimlessly about this guard and the new swimming pool and gym that had been put in near the north end of the sector. The other two were silent—Madine worked through a rigorous stretching ritual and, Padmé thought, probably internally gloated that she would look as if she was at least _doing _something when the Empress exited her sealed meditation chamber. This was the only place Dailyn escaped continual eyes, when she entered the black cavity made in the middle of her room. The walls were two metres thick, bulletproof, blasterproof, lightsaberproof, fireproof, waterproof, airtight with a regulated self contained oxygen system, unhackable, bashproof, and, likely, if the planet was destroyed in some freak divine act of interference, would still survive the blow—and the following time in vacuum, until the Empress died from lack of food and water.

The other three handmaidens, Padmé thought as she wrote in her journal, were no less for their choice of activity. All five were trained furiously from young ages, trained to protect the Empress at the cost of their own life. It was said there were others in training in case the select few were killed. And they were. Every day hung the weight that one of them would die in the stead of their Queen and ruler. Every day risked losing a close companion and coworker from what could have felt like forever—but attachment was an even worse risk. There was Madine, the continually practicing one. She was as physically honed as it was possible for any human to be. There was Nabida, the animal lover and empath. There was never a risk of crazed animals killing the Empress when Nabida was around. There was Ashinda, the illusionist. They said she was Force-sensitive, but hadn't made the cut. Her resemblance to the Empress had brought the Tatooine nomad from her training into yet another training regime. And then there was Tavell, the taste-tester and cook. She was a genius with poisons and chemicals and no one had ever got anything past her yet. And if they tried, a few days later they'd find themselves in bed, vomiting their internal organs out.

_And there's me. Padmé, _thought Padmé. She was the diplomat of the team, the hopeless romantic while still the politician. She was a deadly shot with a blaster or any other ranged weapon, but even more deadly with her mind. Where Madine could kill someone with only one finger free, Padmé could talk them down to size and make them wish they had never been born.

She wondered what it would have been like, to be born somewhere else. All she knew was that she had been born on Naboo—her parents had taken her away before she was old enough to remember anything more than smoke and ash and black. Then Coruscant had been her glistening home until the Empire had found her…

As, she supposed, everyone else's story was. No one had the right to ask. It wasn't need-to-know information.

A hiss startled her from her thoughts and she rose with all the others, as the Empress exited her black chamber and emerged into the crisp white of the room. She only blinked twice at the sudden flood of light; if she showed any other displacement symptoms, no one else noticed as they were on their knees in a moment.

As one, they spoke. "My Lady."

The Empress nodded, accepting their token gestures, and signaled for them to rise. The five handmaidens came back to their feet and spent a moment finding their masks, clipping them back over their similar faces.

Each one was where they were because they had an uncanny resemblance to the Empress. There were minute differences. Padmé and Mordine and Tavell had different colored eyes. But from behind their masks, no one could see their eyes. Ashinda had naturally lighter hair, but a little dye amended that. Tavell was ever so smaller, her limbs shorter and slimmer. Nabida had far more calluses over her hands and scars from animal mishaps. But underneath voluminous robes, no one could ever tell these five women had any physical differences from the Empress herself. If the Empress donned the same clothing, they would be six clones of each other until they spoke.

"What do you wish of us?" Ashinda asked respectfully.

"Come. It is time for your briefing on tomorrow's outing," the Empress said calmly, and gestured her five girls into the next room. The guards remained in the outer room. The handmaidens were the only ones trusted enough with the Empress alone. They were _more_ trusted than the guards, more skilled and more dangerous.

It could have been said that in order to remain a handmaiden so long, you had to be more trusted than the Empress herself.

Padmé left her diary in the palace; it never left. The information she possessed was too critical to ever risk leaving the safety of near impenetrable walls. A human could, with the Force, vanquish all memory, but words never left.

She didn't know why the Empress let her record things.


	3. Chapter 3 From the Shadows

_A/N: Scenes take place in between the alternate universe, and the canon universe—more specifically, there are scenes that occur in the universe where history was different—and scenes that occur in the universe where history is the same as it was. Because of this, there are characters that occur in both universes. I leave it to you to tell by context whether it's an alternate version, or the "canonical" version. Of course, due to the nature of this story, the 'canon' versions are also alternate—just closer to the canon history._

**-Chapter Three-**

"_I had a little shadow, and he was all in black. I went into the darkness and then he ran away. I went back out into the sun and then he did come back. So I'll keep my little shadow friend by staying in the light." -Coruscanti skipping rhyme._

From the set of dark stairs Obi-Wan surfaced back onto the Coruscant street, blinking a few times as the light adjusted from slightly more natural sun creeping through the clouds and the kilometer of buildings and speeders overhead from the neon lights of the underground mall. There were several street lamps beaming more light down, but it was more natural than the blinding techno-colors used in the mall.

It had been a hopeless, futile chase. The fugitive from the sabotage had even evaded getting caught on camera. No face, no name, no address, only the black garbed figure ever so skilled at playing tag. A mastermind at avoiding the Jedi, and equally genius at avoiding the Coruscant police now scanning the area for any trace of anyone who might have matched the vague description.

What would he report? _I regret to inform the Council that the fugitive has been lost and is somewhere free on the Coruscant streets. We have a lead to his destination, and little more, Masters… I will act on this immediately._

_Why did I lose him?_

_I… was… distracted._

Anakin would have caught him, Obi-Wan caught himself thinking. He surfaced from those thoughts back into the grit of Coruscant. All dark and shadows where neon and gaudy holograms didn't chase the black away. And where it was bright from the more natural artificial light, there was still that thick layer of grime. The grime of a thousand species and a thousand footprints from a thousand worlds. To sift through it—none of it would have been Coruscant's dirt. Coruscant was so far buried underneath the weight of towers and terraces that a surface was a myth and a joke. But this chase was one he wished his impetuous apprentice had joined him on, been at his side to be the deadly duo, unstoppable in the face of any fears and danger. Anakin's methods were unorthodox, but working as a pair, they worked as often as they failed—and Anakin just made them fail _less_.

Although, Anakin seemed as distracted lately as Obi-Wan now felt… He felt as if he was being drained slowly, lethargic and listless as he walked towards his speeder to make the brief report and then head back to the police and to the scene to scour for any clues. But he felt—what he felt wasn't the sense of accomplishment as he went to _do_ something, it was ennui and a sense of being torn in half with every step he took. Something had locked his heart and soul away in a box, captured somewhere else. And he didn't know where or what that something else was.

In the crush of people surrounding him, Obi-Wan's mind drifted further and further away…

_Stop it! _he commanded himself. _You have to be_ there_ to stop him when he gets back._

As if that were anything more than a chance, he added silently.

As if it were a cue, there was suddenly a yell in the crowd. He—

—Blinked, and swore to himself as the yell solidified into a "Stop that man!" from one of the officers involved in the chase. Obi-Wan whirled around as he would have reached the speeder, spinning on one heel and setting off after their quarry. This was too convenient, he thought. Either it was a setup or the Force acting in strange, unspeakable ways. He chose not to contemplate it any longer, and began to thread quickly through the sudden too-great crush of people.

_Some backup now would be lovely, _Obi-Wan thought as the authorities were lost in the crush. Only the Force kept him weaving through the occasional breaks in the mass.

Once the two—the chaser and the quarry—broke free of the crowd, the black robed man dashed in between two buildings, dancing through until he bounced onto a pipe that led towards a factory.

Far too many curses had passed through Obi-Wan's mind, but he spurred himself on, his feet barely touching the ground till he too reached the suspended pipe. It shuddered as he leapt onto it, running across with a catlike balance after the still faceless fugitive.

At a point halfway across, the man leapt from the post and his hands wound around a thick wire that connected two buildings. He slid a ways before stopping himself with a perfectly attuned balance, and pulled himself onto it, dashing over Obi-Wan's head and leaping onto the next building.

"Sithspawn!" Obi-Wan braced himself to make the matching leap. But—

It seemed this was exactly the opportunity his quarry had been waiting for. There was suddenly a knife in his hand, and he slashed the wire through by hurling the blade into it. Blue sparks of electricity began to hiss around the metal, but it didn't last long. Obi-Wan's weight pulled it down, and it reached its last strand. It strained to hold before—

The fugitive was getting away.

—_Snap! _Suddenly Obi-Wan was in freefall.

With a gasped curse, Obi-Wan hurled himself forward, and with a rough entry into the arms of the Force, found himself just barely ahead enough to grab the rigged building and haul himself onto the rooftop.

What he would have gave in that breathless moment to have Anakin by his side: confident, passionate, always ready with an impossible plan right when the possible had fallen apart.

A drop of sweat trailed down his forehead. He felt his muscles protesting this mistreatment—but then, Obi-Wan thought ironically, it was a perfectly ordinary occurrence to slam his body brutally against buildings a kilometer from any ground, with only his weathered fingers to keep the lifesaving grip. And it was becoming all too normal to run over buildings, chasing a masked figure quite probably fanatical and hell-bent on the destruction or domination of… well, it always was the destruction or domination of _something_.

_Over here!_

The voice invaded his mind, and it was identical to his own—so much so that Obi-Wan thought it was his own thought, except…

_There!_

He grit his teeth and made another daring leap from a rooftop after the fugitive, who now climbed a smokestack and made an inhuman leap to grab yet another highwire.

_If the Jedi Order is ever destroyed, _Obi-Wan reasoned, _I'll be perfectly qualified for a career in the circus._

Rather than leaping after the renegade, Obi-Wan drew his lightsaber and hurled it up at the wire. The blue blade slashed through the wire with a sputtering display of ozone and electricity. The air smelled burnt as the man fell from the sky, hands wrapped tight around the wire as it jerked to a halt.

He hung there, the wire quivering. The depths wanted to claim this man, and gravity was encouraging it. Obi-Wan held out his hand and his lightsaber snapped back into it.

"Surrender and you'll be given a fair trial!" he called, ever the diplomat, even with an ignited lightsaber in his hand. But he could sense the smirk, even without seeing it, and watched as the man swung his whole body. The wire swung with him and carried him like a pendulum.

Swing… swing… Obi-Wan made ready to throw his saber again. The blue light pierced through the air as the fugitive released his hold on the wire and swung to a peak a couple stories below, and landed with a catlike grace.

_Would've been too much to hope for,_ he reasoned and leapt down as the criminal pulled down the fire escape chain and began dashing back down into the lower city streets. He stopped before Obi-Wan thought he would, though, and hurled himself across to the next building, jerking slightly as he began the decent on the factory's ladder. There was a door but a story down.

Obi-Wan gave up on duplicating the stunt, and chose a new one, leaping across with a Force-enhanced jump, and sliding down a pole to the balcony. His quarry vanished through the door—Obi-Wan followed after, only to be hurled across the room and regain his balance just in time to see the door slam shut, a black figure vanishing.

He bounded back to his feet. If his body had been complaining before, it was protesting loudly now that it didn't _like_ being hurled across the Coruscanti streets into buildings to grab ladders and pipes and wires.

_Blame him_, Obi-Wan thought sarcastically. Dashing to the door, he hurled the door open, spending less than a second to relocate his quarry, who was climbing back to the top of the building on the ladder. He began pursuit a second time, pulling himself up the lengthy ladder till they once again stood on top of the factory in the smoke.

This time, he chased the man in black to the edge, and this time, he made sure he caught him between things that didn't provide easy—if improbable for any but the insane—escape routes. They were suspended over Coruscant in a smoky sky. He would have no choice but to surrender…

----

A screech from the alley startled Ambassador Ellne Neihm, but not enough that she didn't graciously set down the fruit basket she was holding _before_ running in the direction of the scream. The Force nudged her and she found herself quickly at the mouth of the alley, a sobbing girl in a soaked-through undershirt and pants.

"Dadine shoved me in the hole and now I can't remember where home is!" the girl wailed. "And now I'm out and I can't find Aman and _I wanna go home_!"

Ellne felt for a moment as if something was out of place here. A couple other market-goers had followed after her and they half-cornered the dirty girl, while still protecting her from anything else that might have been unfitting.

Something felt very wrong. Maybe it was that—she couldn't sense whether the girl was elaborating on a tall tale, or if she had actually been in the sewers. Was she just vying for the attention of the marketplace women? Trying for free cookies? Perhaps… that… was it.

She felt so hazed…

"Calm down," she heard herself saying. "We'll help you find your mother. What is your name, girl?"

"I'm Bethani and _I want mommy_!"

"How old are you?"

The girl held up eight fingers, a few tears rolling down her cheeks. But it was all right… they could… just… leave… the girl's mother was near… by.

And Ellne might have left, and returned to her shopping, had something else not caught her mind's attention. The reason the girl was so unreadable: the Force flowed in her veins and through her body and spirit. The Sith Ambassador sensed it clearly now.

She grabbed the girl's arm. "What, are you a Temple runaway? Trying for a little adventure? What are you doing outside of the Temple?!"

"I—I… w-what?" stammered Bethani.

_Perhaps she does not know… _"I'm going to take you back to the Temple. What is your full name?" snapped Ellne.

"B-bethani Htith," the dirty girl stuttered.

"I shall have you searched in our databank. If you are not lying, your parents will be contacted," Ellne said. She tugged the girl into the street. "Now, come with me."

"Y-yes'm," Bethani whimpered. The others who had been drawn by the short commotion drifted back to their own business; this was official Sith business now, and nothing citizens had to worry about—as long as it didn't concern them and their family. And even when it did, no commoner had the right to protest the actions of the Empress and her subordinates.

----

A skilled Jedi need not cloak himself in shadows, but can stand invisible in the light, those around him convinced he is not there, or is someone else entirely. Anakin Skywalker was a skilled Jedi, but even he had elected to fade into the dark alongside the building until the Sith Ambassador had dragged his charge off. _Then_ he spent some time cursing, swearing at himself for putting her into danger—and losing her immediately, into the hands of their enemies.

He was a failure! A fool! It would have been safer in the sewers; he should have been the first to venture out, but he had convinced himself that a tiny girl would be considered less a threat than a rank and dirty adult male. And now she was in the hands of the Sith!

_At least the Sith didn't sense you… she was oblivious._

_Hah! _he countered. _A small grace, but hardly worth remembering in the scheme of things._

_Oh, no, _the other half of his mind remarked. _I think it's quite worth denoting: you're not currently being dragged off to the State Prison, unconscious and bloody, headed to a lifetime of slow torment as they try drag the truth behind the Jedi Order out of you in any manner possible._

_Yeah. Right. Thanks for the encouragement._

Anakin was a Jedi; a very skilled Jedi. And now he would have to force those skills to make him seem a Sith. He wondered if that wasn't quite an abomination to the Force. Slicking his hair back, he sank back into the needed focus to project such an illusion. Such an illusion that he could walk through the street and not be noticed by any Sith who might recognize the source of his powers being light, or noticed by someone who wanted to see Jedi.

_Hey, maybe we can bring grunge back in the process._

People often refused to see what couldn't possibly be there. The great and mighty Sith were often tuned out because, though they were the most dangerous beings on the planet, they were a common sight, and not only that, people simply did not want _to_ see a Sith if he was minding his own business. Citizens just wanted Sith business to stay Sith business. Anakin hoped he could turn this against them, and for a short time, _be_ a Sith, forcing people's minds to think that since there were no Jedi, there was nothing else he could possibly be but a Sith.


	4. Chapter 4 My Darkness

I'm bad at this updating thing. Sorry.

**-Chapter Four-**

"_Then be my darkness." –Jedi Master Kail Doran_

_Report, _they ask. Report. _What is the result of your mission, Master Kenobi_? Obi-Wan remembered the disappointment in the eyes of the Council when he drew a shuddering breath and gave his plain, but most certainly not uncomplicated, reply.

_The suspect killed himself. I chased him to Novu Street, to the factories, He dove from a building with a final taunt._

_Are you certain he is dead? _This from Master Windu.

_Yes._

_A grieving loss this is. _Master Yoda. Disappointed. Concerned. And Obi-Wan didn't know what had brought about this feeling in the old Master. It was just a criminal.

Just a criminal. He repeated it over and over in his mind.

Just a criminal.

Over and over, just like the debriefing. To himself, he had to admit he was _not_ certain. There was no body. Without a body, there was no true proof—but finding it was the Coruscant police force's job, not the job of a Jedi Master whose talents were better off put to use elsewhere. But Obi-Wan had watched him plummet, had watched him vanish into the misty depths of the city…

…Had felt his presence wink out like a small flame in the wind…

_And this is all?_

_It… _A hesitation. A possibly incriminating hesitation. _…Yes, Masters. I am sorry for my failure. _Bow. Exchange polite words. Wait for the gesture, the signal the conversation is over—leave calmly, slowly, do not let your footsteps betray your concern—do not let your heartbeat betray your own fear over the question: why exactly are you afraid to let the Council know you suspect…

_Suspect what?_

Enter the turbolift all too conscious the Council you're leaving behind can sense something is on your mind. Know that if they chose, they could tear it from the darkness in your own mind.

_This is what really happened,_ he tries to convince himself as the lift takes him down to the lower level. There Obi-Wan exits, and heads pensively back to his apartment. This is Obi-Wan now: he walks with a slow, almost desperate stride, paces a bit here and there to try shake off the torn feeling in his heart.

Just like he repeats the conversation, over and over in his mind. Do the Masters know something he didn't? What caused Master Yoda to call it a grieving loss? Was he perhaps obsessing too much over—

What had really happened…?

* * *

Obi-Wan cornered him at the top of the factory, with no ladders, no pipes, no rods and no vines to make any miracle escape. There was nowhere left for the mysterious fugitive to make an escape: there was no way that this man could escape the hands of his Jedi pursuer now. But with that in mind—and surely this man had to be aware of it—Obi-Wan couldn't shake the feeling that he had walked straight into a setup. There were no crowds left for the criminal to vanish into, no shadows for him to melt away in. Just two people on top of a factory just beside the streets made of air. A metre back and the man would fall kilometres before he ever hit the ground. Noise from the rushing traffic held them hostage there, suspended in a moment, and equally suspended above the ground.

It felt as if the criminal was laughing as he turned around. They faced each other.

Time stopped.

What had once been damp air was now frigid, turning the place into a moment where Obi-Wan stared, unable to breathe or even hear the beat of his pulse in his ears.

He stared into blue eyes that returned his steady gaze. A smirk danced in their shadowed depths.

Then Obi-Wan could hear his heart pounding, his breath escaped but if it turned to fog was already lost in the mist of the air and steam escaping from the factory beneath their feet. _It's a trick! _Obi-Wan tried to convince himself. _This man is wanted for assault, for kidnapping and sabotage…_

"I've always wanted to meet you," the man greeted, walking slowly and confidently backwards until at last he balanced on the edge of the roof, his feet keeping him from taking the deadly plunge, but just barely.

Obi-Wan held out a cautious hand. "You needn't do that… you will not be harmed…"

It stared back at him—his face with a dark and twisted smile, his heels just over the edge of the building. The man leaned back.

Obi-Wan reached out with the Force. A barrier. He had to create a barrier and stop this—surely it was a shapeshifter!—from falling…

"It's a shame we couldn't get to know one another better. But I shan't stay to play into your Jedi sadism." The fugitive leaned backwards. But the wall of Force…

—was suddenly no more.

Obi-Wan hurled himself forward, but his fingers closed over empty air. He watched as he vanished into the deep.

"No…" Obi-Wan breathed.

The mimic's presence winked out like a light, just like the wall of Force energy.

He didn't know why the death tugged at his heart. And he didn't know why he grimaced as he hooked his lightsaber back onto his belt, and took a step away from the chasm. And didn't know why he stared at the space where the man had stood for a long, black moment before drawing a calming breath and heading back to the ladder.

* * *

_He didn't have a lightsaber._

The situation played itself out. Obi-Wan watched, remembered from those moments, climbing down the ladder and making his way back through the streets to the speeder.

_He didn't have a lightsaber._ So surely it had to have been a mimic, some sort of creature that could take on a face—or perhaps a man with a very similar look—if it had been the Force, surely there would have been a lightsaber to match, just like the eyes, just like the face, just like that trimmed beard and the well-kept hair. No shapeshifter could have got hold of a lightsaber…

Every breath, every second took him back to that dread moment. Plummeting…

_He didn't have a lightsaber, yet he nulled my Force powers…_

…His eyes, his face, his voice, even his own cruel smile… falling.

Dead. He was still pacing and could not bring himself to stop. He had not sensed the Force in the fugitive, but then, he had not tried. It was something Obi-Wan now regretted. It could have been a lead to finding the Sith. Surely the Sith could develop such a trick. But Sith would have carried lightsabers, especially if they intended on meeting a Jedi in combat—though this one had fled.

_But he didn't have a lightsaber._

Not a Jedi.

_He wore black._

That didn't mean anything. Anakin wore black. Master Luminara wore black. _Stop jumping to conclusions!_

…_I have a sibling? Perhaps that is it. Jedi are separated from their family, but often the family knows about the Jedi child. Perhaps it was a brother…_

…_Why should it matter? There are no attachments as a Jedi! And he was just a… a… criminal…_

He had been another person, Obi-Wan thought silently. And his distraction by it was leading to attachment. Attachment to that distraction. It made him less of a Jedi than, Obi-Wan thought, he should have been.

_He…_

_I have to let go._

_Yes_, Obi-Wan reasoned. That was it. He just had to get it off his mind.

* * *

They met in the halls. Obi-Wan was headed to the gardens, and Master Yoda had his crèchelings in tow, off to their next class. Obi-Wan thought maybe to take advantage of that moment, where there were no other Jedi Masters surrounding them—but he was beaten to the punch by the alien Master, who purposefully veered off to prod Obi-Wan's shins with his staff.

"A moment, Master Kenobi and I must take," Yoda explained to his class, but it was pointed towards Obi-Wan who nodded. He had no real need to avoid this conversation, even if he was going to be told off for leaving out a few thoughts in his report.

They headed into the nearest room. If the children eavesdropped, Yoda seemed unconcerned, because he spoke as soon as they were out of the hall.

"Distracted, are you?"

Obi-Wan nodded. "Master Yoda… I am aware family matters are disregarded by the Order, but…"

He hesitated a moment. When the Master did not speak, Obi-Wan permitted himself to continue.

"Do I have a brother?"

"That we know of, no." Yoda slammed his gimer staff down in emphasis. "No family members beyond your parents are known to us. Distracted by this, you should not be!"

"I am sorry, Master." Obi-Wan closed his eyes for a moment. If Yoda had wanted, he could have torn everything from Obi-Wan's mind. But the little Master had a sense of polite consideration and left it to Obi-Wan to expand. "The fugitive I pursued was… identical to myself, in physical appearance and voice. I sensed him vanish. He anticipated my movements… even removed a wall I set up… surely he was Force-sensitive."

"Worried by this, are you?"

"What if he was one of the Sith?" Obi-Wan asked in a low voice, in case the children were listening.

"Then a dangerous thought, this may be." Yoda paused in thought. "Think and meditate on this overnight, I will. May the Force be with you."

The conversation was over, then. Obi-Wan sighed, and bowed. "And with you, Master." They left the room and separated—Obi-Wan didn't find the conversation had set his mind at ease, but rather the chaos was even more rampant. If he wasn't careful, he thought, he would become as volatile as his Padawan or even his old Master.

The thought of Qui-Gon no longer made Obi-Wan's mind writhe from the agony of loss. But the turmoil this situation let him simmer in was almost as dangerous.


	5. Chapter 5 My Dream

**-Chapter Five-**

"_Our studies have revealed that a great many amateur writers tend to begin their tales with a description of the weather or a dream—why this is, our scientists have never truly ascertained, except the possibility that—just perhaps— the volatile nature of dreams appeals widely to the overreactive imaginations of those who would seek to escape the system. Whereas, contrary to the fact, weather is something very real to many of us and part of the system: two very paradoxal beginning representing the wholeness of the universe: light and dark, fantasy and reality… who doesn't seek to make fantasy reality?" –Sith Master Anahim Raven, __Studies of a Fictional Mind_

The night was cold, outside this side of Coruscant was crisp with the beginning of fall. Where real trees grew, their leaves were beginning to brown and some even dropped to the sidewalks and were swept away. Where there was no life, there were hints of frost in the northern hemisphere. The air would smell like the season's change—sharp, biting. Jedi would draw their robes tighter around themselves as they strode out to their ships to join into the war efforts, clonetroopers would activate the setting on their helmets that kept the visors from fogging up. Ordinary civilians would wear heavier jackets and put the top up on their speeders as they drove to work.

Coruscant never slept, but the planet's inhabitants all—eventually—had to sleep. Even the aliens who slept for months and then remained awake for the rest, even the dancers and the drug dealers and the thieves and murderers. Even Jedi slept.

Even Obi-Wan slept, though uneasy. Sleep was where dreams came to life, and the eyes were always closed. Sleep did not always equal rest—and the confusion, the ennui, the desire for a purpose, a solution, an _answer_ kept him from rest. It did not keep him from dreams.

In this dream, there was Anakin, but this Anakin was green, white, brown—and seemed to glow. It was not Anakin as Obi-Wan knew him: dark, tormented, emotional, but Anakin as he should have been: controlled and burning with passion for only one thing. Goodness.

But in this dream, there was a shadow looming just beyond the horizon. A shadow that seemed to grow and grow until it threatened to spill over the city of Coruscant and drown it in blackness. The shadow had eyes. Anakin stood on top of the city of Coruscant, a lightsaber held in one hand and a staunch position. He would hold the shadow back. But here, Anakin was not cheered on by the galaxy. The voices were silent. No maidens sang his praise, no children wanted only to be just like Skywalker, no men talked about his daring actions—there was a hush. He may have been the hero with no fear, but here he was the hero with no support, and the hero who walked alone.

The shadow crept ever closer, bleeding into the sky and flooding across the ground. It hummed, whispered, breathed of unthinkable things…

Anakin turned to face it with an unyielding look on his face. Shadows coiled up around his feet, wrapping themselves around his legs and his lightsaber. His weapon was jerked away by the powers of darkness, and then the shadows were wrapped around his face. The strength of mind, the strength of will, and even the power of the Force flowing through his apprentice were sapped away, and Anakin was left with nothing but desperation—

Obi-Wan jerked, and practically flew out of bed as a cold hand settled on his face. A face with tousled brown hair and intense blue eyes hovered just inches away from his. Obi-Wan followed it down to the body, a loose black tunic and pants, over to the clock—3:07—and then back up to the face.

_Anakin?_

"Anakin?" He exhaled slowly, counted to five. "What are you _doing_ here?"

Anakin shrugged. "I came to steal some cheese and couldn't bear the thought of you having a bad dream."

_How did he know?_

"…I dreamed about you," Obi-Wan said.

"Oh, my mistake." Anakin grinned. "Unless, of course, I died."

_No such luck, _Obi-Wan thought wryly. "Cheese?" he asked instead.

"Well, and some of that leftover nerf too. And a couple fruits. And maybe a few of those crazy crackers you picked up when we were on Nevrast IV…"

"Yes, yes, I've got the point. You came to hijack all the interesting food in my apartment and blame it on little food-stealing Ewoks."

"I was hungry," Anakin complained.

"You can _have_ the crackers. They're disgusting. Why can't you go steal food from Senator Amidala instead? She seems to have taken a liking to you."

"Hasn't everyone? Besides, you stock real food." Anakin shrugged. "None of those silly salads and fruits and vegetables."

Obi-Wan grunted and lay back down. "I'm afraid I can't join you. I have to oversee beta squad's training at 0700 hours. Good _night_, Anakin."

"Sweet dreams, Obi-Wan." Anakin waved at him.

_I certainly hope so, _Obi-Wan thought, closing his eyes as Anakin headed off, presumably to steal more food. As he drifted back into the same restless slumber, he slid right back into the dream—where the darkness threatened to overwhelm a beckon of light…

Sandwich clasped in hand, Anakin Skywalker headed down the hall towards his apartment. It was dark, but he sneaked around in the dark often enough. Obi-Wan never seemed to notice his fridge was occasionally emptier than it had been the night before, and it was amazing—none of the Jedi ever suspected his secret relationship with Padmé, even the one closest to him. He wondered if he should have been offended by that, wondered if Obi-Wan's comment about Senator Amidala had been made solely in jest or if it actually _meant_ something…

Anakin opened his door, pushing it open with his foot and heading into the dark. The only light was the steady blink of the light on his—

The little red light on his comunit was no longer there. And the shadows were deeper than they should have been. Almost like someone dressed completely in black stood there…

Anakin drew his lightsaber left-handed, still holding onto his sandwich. In the shimmer of the blue gleam, he could just barely make up the shape of a figure blocking the small light. A figure wearing a rebreather—

His breath came short, and it wasn't just from surprise.

"Master…?" Anakin gasped. But he had left Obi-Wan asleep in his room… right—?

The black claimed him.

* * *

It was early in the morning, in this sector of Coruscant's planet-wide city, the sun was only barely peaking over the gray horizon, spilling over the buildings and lighting them in wicked red. Inside the Imperial Palace, though, the sunlight could only be seen from a windowed chamber, and they were underground. As far underground as the layers of buildings offered. It was rumored there were actually chambers that were built into the dirt of the planet, and none of the compacted layers of metal and plastic.

Padmé and Ashinda stood beside their Empress, Padmé on the left and Ashinda on the right. Across the room stood the foreboding figure of the Dark Lord, the he who ruled the Sith. Mathias. Once Darth Stygian, but now Lord Mathias, Lord Stygian, the Dark Lord of the Sith.

"How have your searches been going?" the Empress asked of him, almost rudely. Here, in the most private of sanctuaries the Palace could offer, the Dark Lord and the Empress acted like the siblings they were.

The Dark Lord smiled. "Early last week I sent one of the Lords off on an expedition. He returned safely this very evening, the sensors indicate. I will interrogate him about how the—ah, trip—went after the event."

"Hmm." The Empress considered this for a moment, one delicate hand brushing a strand of her hair from her face. "I suppose that's acceptable. Be certain to let me know of the results. He is, of course, excused from attending if necessary. But I expect your Sith to be there at the afternoon speech and banquet."

"Those who can, will."

"How goes the research on the Prophecy?" enquired Empress Dailyn.

Mathias grunted. "Jedi lore, nothing more. Without their archives, none of the best of my historians can find anything on it. Balance to the Force. Foolishness."

"I think we balance it well enough." She smiled, tapped the side of her chin.

"I don't think it could be any more balanced if a Jedi had the throne." Mathias grinned for a moment. Then his face was that solemn mask of aphotic horror once more, blue eyes that had gone amber from the power of the dark side, hair that wasn't quite black, pale skin—and most of all, that continence that whispered of only black.

As always, the accompanying handmaidens remained silent. Padmé, always observing—but only observing, only ever recording if the Empress allowed her… these meetings were secret, and not even the Guard came here.

"On the topic of the Jedi, have you any leads?" the Dark Lord asked.

Again, the Empress's cool smile. "Oh, I think we're getting somewhere."


	6. Chapter 6 Something is Missing

_AN: Oh, man, I'm such a bad updater. Not like anyone's following me on here anyway. XP 55 days LATER... it's not like I don't have more written, it's that I just keep forgetting about this site. XP SORRY!! I know a few of you guys have it on watch and I have a couple commenters who've come back... maybe you're still there to want to read this? I know, it's so horribly confusing, this story is. If you've gotten this far I can promise eventually it'll start making sense because evidently, you got this far because you can understand the difference between the alternate world and the real world. And I can promise I'll do my best to make other things make more sense eventually._

**-Chapter Six-  
**"_Hssss… don't know why they—hsss—cold night, hey? Hsssssssssss… (static) Wait! Hey! Jerethain, don't let him get away! …Hsssss… Sith! Sound the alarm! Jere! JERE! (static) …Hssss… you'll pay! (footsteps) (snap-hiss) Don't think we're going to let you live, Sith! No one breaks into the… hsss…—temple… and lives to remember it!" –Jedi security recordings, 0200 hours: 01/21/653 BBY_

_Beep… beep… beep…_

Incessant, and it drove Obi-Wan crazy. Somewhere, an alarm went off repeatedly, its sound driving into his mind. It couldn't be 0600 yet—he didn't require an alarm to rise like some people he knew, and it wasn't harsh enough to be the emergency warning system…

Obi-Wan opened his eyes.

A clock with glowing numbers sat just to his left on a table. 8:00, it read. Light streamed through the window—8:00 meant late; he swore and hurried out of bed. A belated thought occurred that perhaps this was just Anakin playing some childish prank on him: set an alarm clock, set the clocks all ahead an hour or two, and watch as his old teacher panicked for a few moments. Immature, certainly, but far more feasible than simply sleeping through an important meeting with Beta Squad…

"Anakin!" he called, throwing open his closet and digging for a clean tunic. It took a moment to sink in: all his clothing was gone. It _had_ to be a prank now. Only Anakin would have been brash enough to steal all of his Master's clothes and replace them with his own, and—_I really can't believe I didn't sense it coming,_ Obi-Wan thought wryly. He should have known his apprentice was up to more than a midnight snack.

Still, there was a chance the clocks weren't a joke and he really was late. Well, if Anakin thought it was funny to give Obi-Wan all his clothes, Obi-Wan would just have to make it funny to _wear_ Anakin's clothes. He pulled one of the black tunics over his head and straightened it. His hand fell to where his belt should have been left overnight.

The belt was there, but it was empty.

Clothing—and even alarm clocks were slightly entertaining. Even though he had always been a by-the-book apprentice, Obi-Wan had to admit a bit of faint amusement—but stealing his equipment was going a bit too far. He frowned and buckled the belt around the black cotton tunic, wondering where Anakin had found the nerve to steal his Master's lightsaber. He had always known the boy was brash, but not _that_ brash.

_And after all those lectures about losing his lightsaber..._ Obi-Wan sighed and slipped into his boots—at least those were his own, Anakin's feet had to be at least a size larger and he was quite fond of his own boots. He hurried out the door. The clones were patient—but with the stirrings of the war threatening to wash over into a climax, time could not be wasted. It was enough that he could say he was on Coruscant right now. The Jedi Order was already spreading thin, leading clones against droids and trying—trying with all their might to find a way to stop the Confederation. If they _hadn't_ uncovered a clone army requisitioned by a dead Jedi Master… too much longer and the droid armies might have become a bit too big—but now they could destroy factories and send the Separatist leaders scattering, and hopefully capture them, win peace back to the Republic…

With that chaos in mind, that Anakin would have thought it amusing to prank his teacher by taking his _lightsaber_… Obi-Wan shook his head. It was no wonder that the boy was not a Jedi Knight yet. As powerful as he was, he was too rash and too uncontrolled.

_Qui-Gon would have been a better teacher for him, _Obi-Wan thought regretfully. At least—the events from yesterday were no longer the brunt of his focus.

And with the memory, it claimed his focus again. Distracted, Obi-Wan didn't see the wall before it was too late. He stopped, calmly, and paused then. He knew this route like the back of his hand: he couldn't have been _that_ distracted.

Clearly, however, he was.

He touched the wall with one hand. Wall—and no door near it. But they had put this hall in years ago, before Obi-Wan had even been Knighted… he dropped his hand back to his side. This was…

_A dream? _he though nervously. Perhaps he still slept. Perhaps he was really just that disoriented. He walked to the door and swung it open, heading into the next sweeping hall. A sweeping hall that was white, crisp, and polished… when yesterday, it had been brown and warm and welcoming…

"Lord Kenobi, you're back!" Obi-Wan turned at the voice, and stared for a moment at a woman only a couple inches shorter than him—but only for a moment, as she wrapped her arms around him in a tight, friendly embrace. She had sun-touched coffee skin, smooth red hair and amber eyes, and he knew that he was supposed to know her, if only by her endearing actions. Too affectionate. Her fingernails ran down his back for a moment. "How was your trip?" she asked, before releasing him from her hold.

He desperately searched the Force for her name. "It… ah…"

"Oh, don't worry, I understand." She blew a kiss at him from her painted lips. "You can't talk about it yet."

_Meliana, _he came up with. _Lady Nadira. _"Ah… yes… that's it…" _Does she have some sort of crush on me?_

"Will you be at the speech this afternoon?"

Her voice was made of syrup and honey, so affectionate that it even made his shell crumple just a little, and he felt as if he should adore her in the same way she bestowed upon him. He shook it away with a bit of a shake of his head. "I suppose." _There is no passion…_

"Should be good. Dailyn's good at keeping everyone captivated." _Silly commoners, they can fall under the Force's spell so fast, _was unspoken. He had never heard a voice speak so clearly in his mind. She seemed to smile a bit, eyes lighting up with a gleam he had only ever seen in Anakin's eyes. Such intensity, that burning passionate need to succeed.

"She… yes," Obi-Wan chose to agree. _Who's Dailyn?_

"Still a bit disoriented?" Meliana gave him a pitying look. "I suppose you'll regain your head in a few days. Perhaps a caf would help?"

"I'm sorry," Obi-Wan said. "I'm late for a briefing." Well, it wasn't entirely a lie. He was late for Beta Squad's training, and being distracted by a… a…

"All right, see you around." She smiled.

She didn't wear a lightsaber.

He stepped away from the wall, glanced around for one moment, and headed towards the door. She walked down the hall, towards some stairs headed up on the other side. Again, something he hadn't noticed—stairs that had not been there before. On the other side of the door, a set of metal stairs headed down to the next level. Obi-Wan gazed thoughtfully at them before heading down. His boots clattered on the stairs and one level down, he walked across the landing and out onto the next hall. There was a long hallway again, various doors on the right and a window on the left, a long window of transparisteel that stretched across the hall. A few dark robed Jedi strode down the hall, a few murmured conversations here and there. Obi-Wan couldn't pick up anything that was said, and without intruding with the Force, he wouldn't have been able to.

Glancing out the window at Coruscant's horizon, he marveled over the incredible sense of _perfection_ that radiated from it all. The sun had risen an hour ago and the sky was bright with pure sunlight, scattered by a few clouds and reflecting off of metal buildings and speeders. It didn't feel like a world caught up in a galaxy of war. It just felt perfect. And inside the Jedi Temple, there wasn't that horrified sense of cold anticipation. It was a calm he had not felt since he was an apprentice, permeating everything, breaking through every room and every glossy white or silver surface.

Obi-Wan self-consciously brushed his hair back before hurrying down the hall. Maybe this was part of the dreams and he'd wake up at 0600 hours and be there on time to get Beta Squad briefed and trained up for the new mission—leave Coruscant and leave all this on-planet work behind again, it'd be the end of his break from the warfield but less confusing than this.

He passed a pair talking, overheard the Master cautioning the apprentice on acting too rashly. He smiled. He knew that lecture. He had been on both the giving and receiving end of it many times. He noticed the Master gave him a brief nod as he carried down the hall, to the end of the window and an arch that reminded him more of home. The next section of the hall was wooden, a few plants positioned thoughtfully along it where they could catch the sun from a few strategic skylights.

There was a Jedi he knew not so far away. Obi-Wan hastened to catch up. "Master Dorvak—have you seen Anakin?"

Dorvak turned, offered Obi-Wan an obligatory greeting, then responded. "I'm… afraid not."

Obi-Wan sighed. Well, he'd have to get Anakin in trouble after his briefing. He wondered if he was just convincing himself that he still had to go brief Beta Squadron. But Anakin would join him on that mission. They were an inseparable pair. "Thank you, Master." Obi-Wan bowed. "May the Force be with you."

"And with you… how was your trip, Lord Kenobi?"

It hit him then—Lord, not Master—the same title as Meliana used. Obi-Wan's expression narrowed for a moment. He elected to be evasive, and determine the cause of the erroneous feeling in this situation soon. Something was not right here. "It was interesting," he allowed. "I can't talk about it just yet." He remembered what the woman had said and held onto it. _I understand. You can't talk about it yet._

It was so quiet here…

There was no lightsaber on Dorvak's person.

The Master nodded sympathetically. "I understand. I'll see you in the afternoon, Lord Kenobi."

"Ah… yes, Master Dorvak." Obi-Wan's hands twitched. "I really must be going."

Master Dorvak bowed. "Dark be with you."

"And… with you."

_What?_

Obi-Wan hurried down the hall, remembering the direction of the doorways. He knew the layout now. It was the Temple, the old one. Modifications had been made over the years, but it matched the floorplan from… a thousand years ago? The history lessons were coming in handy now. Jedi loved history, loved keeping records of every single little thing that was ever said and done, and most of all—they loved inflicting memorization of every little detail upon their apprentices.

He knew this place. Not personally, but from memorization. But time travel was impossible…

Respectful marble busts of the Council sat along the hall. Obi-Wan knew some of the faces. Mace Windu, Kit Fisto, Adi Gallia—faces that affirmed time travel was indeed impossible. A few faces he did not recognize: a Wookiee, a Twi'lek, a human with intense eyes, a woman with long hair… and a face he _did_ recognize…

Obi-Wan stopped, frozen.

A face he knew all too well. His Master, his mentor, his father and friend.

Qui-Gon Jinn, carved into stone.

* * *

Archivist Bene Karid glanced up from her careful study of the ancient language as someone entered the library. She recognized his face, but from the top of her head, she couldn't place his name. A whispered spell brought it to his mind: Obi-Wan Kenobi. She caught a brief pause from him as her spell touched his mind. He knew someone had broken past his mental barriers. But Sith trusted one another—what need was there for words when there was the Force?

"What can I do for you, Master Kenobi?"

He relaxed at that and sat down across from her, glancing to the carefully preserved book she studied. "I was wondering if I could see records of the first couple years of the Clone Wars."

Bene racked her mind for a moment, but nothing surfaced. "The Clone Wars? What century was that? I'll search the records…"

He paled. "Ah… could I have access to the file on the planet Kamino?"

"Why, certainly." She turned to the computer and made a transfer to a datapad. She passed it over the table to him, noticing his interest in the book she studied. "You're interested in ancient history, Master Kenobi?"

"You could say that." He took the datapad, tapping the surface thoughtfully.

Bene leaned over the counter, gazing thoughtfully at him. "What's wrong, Master Kenobi?"

"I'm… distracted, that's all." He sighed. "Yes. I think I am interested in ancient history, Archivist. What is it you're studying?"

"Old Jedi prophecies. Dark Lord Stygian has an interest in them." She smiled. "Well, if you're interested in history, this certainly is the place to be. Perhaps in the evening."

Kenobi hesitated. "What exactly _is_ going on this afternoon?"

She remembered the name Kenobi then. "Oh, you were the one sent cross-dimension! I suppose the transfer was disorienting. Perhaps time ran at a different speed?" She looked eager, eager to know. "Because tonight is Empress Dailyn's speech out at the Dims and the public opening of the new museum exhibit."

"Why… would a royal launch a museum exhibit?" Kenobi asked cautiously.

"Because it's the first ever Jedi museum!" Bene looked excited. "All of our years of research, trying to scrape together books and papers and artifacts and finally—finally they'll be put into a solid form for everyone to appreciate! And, who knows, perhaps the Jedi will finally act. They say the Empress is finally drawing in on their hidden Temple…"

"Hidden Temple…" Kenobi echoed. He shook his head slightly. "Astounding. You're right, this does sound exciting. What defense will this event have?"

"The Guard and as many Sith as the Temple can spare. Not to worry. Nothing gets past us."

Kenobi gazed at her. "Sith."

"Oh, not everyone will be on guard duty. I'm sure you'll be able to enjoy the festivities."

He stood up, taking the datapad with him. "Yes. I'm certain I will."


	7. Chapter 7 Jedi Survive

**-Chapter Seven-**

_/ Begin Security Record: Execution Chamber _

_/ 0800 hours: 01/22/653 BBY/_

_"Any last words, Sith?"_

_"(groan) Ask that… listen to my story, you would."_

_/Pause Security Record…_

There was one thing, Anakin realized, that made him stand out in the crowd: he carried a lightsaber, unlike the Sith. Most commoners were too distractible to notice anything of the sort, but he knew that most Sith would not be fooled by the aura he projected and for them to notice anything out of the ordinary on his person, he would immediately be arrested. The lightsaber was tucked away into his belt now, and he had demanded a bath and bed at an inn, insisting it was official Sith business. Of course, most business owners knew that 'official Sith business' was often slang for 'I want free beer', and they didn't report. Why would they? No one wanted to anger the Sith…

He kept convincing himself of that. Today was a big day. The Empress herself would be opening the new museum and giving a speech. Many, many Sith would be present at the opening. The Temple would be—slightly safer than it was the rest of the time. But only if new apprentices were left there.

He strode down the street confidently, just like any other Sith. They let their own charisma shine through, and it was that self-assurance that kept the galaxy afraid of them.

He had to save Bethani. It was ultimately his own lack of ability that had gotten her captured by the Sith. He couldn't let them keep her.

It was so clean up here. Not like the dark, dank underground the Jedi inhabited. Everything was crisp. And there were so many more humans. Aliens had their own sectors, their own carefully divided off sections of the city. It was mainly humanoid aliens Anakin spotted: Zabraks and Twi'leks and the odd Falleen and Wookiee. He noticed one Bothan in the crowd, too, and a couple Bith keeping their heads down. There were so many more aliens in the Jedi underground.

It wasn't that the Imperial Order was racist, it was more that their subordinates weren't all so fond of anyone with green or purple skin, horns or fur, or even six eyes. There would be aliens at the big event later: there were aliens in the Sith Order, and even aliens in the Empress's guard.

A hand clapped down on his shoulder. Anakin almost jumped, but restrained himself, and rather turned around calmly. "Yes?"

"Your pardon, Lord…" The security worker glanced away nervously. Anakin recognized him as just a guard, without any Force-sensitivity. Of course, all Sith security would be around the Palace right now. But the Palace wasn't even so far away, now. "But I'm sorry. I have my orders. No one goes in here without the appropriate documentation until later."

Anakin glanced at the building, and realized that he had followed the signs leading to the museum without even thinking about it. Perhaps the Force… or perhaps just distraction. He gestured loosely with one hand before inclining his head. "Ah… yes. And you are to be commended for bravery in carrying out your duties." He smiled, crystalline eyes gleaming with a moment's wish for this control over everyone, all the time. "Not everyone would stand in the way of a Sith Lord."

"Y-yes… thank you, sir," the security guard said hesitantly. He may have continued, but Anakin strode away, back down the street and back into the crowd.

Bethani was a Jedi. She would survive.

He would just have to be patient.

"Up."

It was a single spoken word, but it forced its way into Bethani's mind and reverberated, chilling her blood until she sat up in bed, eyes wide and face frozen.

"I'm up," Bethani whispered.

"Good girl." Ellne Neihm jerked her head. "Out of bed. Get dressed. We have work to do."

Bethani pulled herself out of bed, standing still in her short nightgown. "Yes, Mistress. Did you have my clothes cleaned?"

"No." Ellne grunted and gestured at the night table. "Those rags weren't fit for a street urchin to wear—even if you were one. These are tailored, custom made robes—much more fit for a Sith apprentice to wear."

"A-apprentice?" Bethani stammered. The girl moved over to take the clothes, laying them out on the bed before stripping her nightgown off and changing into the glossy black tunic and pants.

"Apprentice." Ellne gazed at her from behind almond shaped eyes. "Before the afternoon, I expect you to be scrubbed clean, your hair cut, and armed."

"Whose… apprentice will I be?"

"And stop stammering, for crying out loud. Learn to be confident!" The Sith ambassador gave her a hard look. "You'll be mine, of course."

"Yes'm," Bethani murmured. "I'll go take a shower right away, Master."

"Good girl."

_Drip…_

_Drip…_

…_Drip…_

A light hovered in the dim library over a small creature's hand. A tiny beacon of the Force, something that could not harm the ancient pages and datapads stored in this room. But it wasn't a very large archive, only a few shelves lining the walls. Master Yoda hobbled along the shelf, searching quietly for one book.

"Mm… fix that drip, someone should," the old Master remarked. Morthain Li came to a halt, brushing his thin black hair back after offering a respectful bow.

"Yes, Master. We should have it fixed."

Yoda sighed, leaning against the shelf with a painful sigh. "Lost… so much is lost…"

The little green Master was hunched over, body racked with old age, every muscle tormented by arthritis. Every step he took was agony, very slow, patient movement drawing him on. He was nearly as old as the Empirical Order itself, it was rumored. But not as old, not quite—no one could ever be so old…

"Master, we lost two Jedi."

The light began to expand, illuminating the dark library. "Lost?"

Morthain nodded. "In the sewer… when the eyes were opened." He sighed. "Knight Skywalker and one of the acolytes."

"Too many, even one loss is. But little can be done…" The enigmatic Master took his staff back up, a piece of pipe carved to a manageable size, a large nut welded to the end for him to rest upon. "Reveal our presence to the Sith, we cannot!"

Morthain sank down beside Master Yoda, his hands clasped over his knees. "It's getting harder. The children are so restless, Master. The tunnels aren't safe anymore. And the Sith come closer every day. We caught another one last week… eventually our ysalamari will die… eventually they're going to get down here and slaughter every single remaining Jedi… what happened on Naboo cannot be repeated…"

"Cannot be _forgotten_," Yoda echoed with a sigh.

Naboo… Tatooine… even Coruscant… the Jedi fought to protect the memory of those who had died, those who sacrificed themselves in the name of the light. The few remaining Jedi. But they could not even be called remaining. Everything had been destroyed—and the Sith had flourished. Morthain unhooked his lightsaber, turned it back and forth between his hands. It was pieced together out of scrap metals, a large washer soldered to the head of the emitter shaft, a thin piece of pipe made the handle, a few strips of rubber sealant made the grip, and a thin chain held it to his belt. The crystal itself had been found on the surface of the planet.

This was one of the few things the Jedi Order had not lost. The technology to make what was now considered obsolete, a weapon a Sith's child could make. Yoda's lightsaber was made of several nuts welded together. No Sith carried a scrap metal weapon.

"Is there anything we can do?" Morthain asked.

"Leave Coruscant…" Yoda shook his head. "Even that, we cannot risk."

"Can't leave, too dangerous to stay…" Morthain sighed. "I just thought you should know, Master."

"That yet another loss, there has been."

"There is a chance that… they may have survived."

"A chance? Good, that is."

"No, not a chance. Anakin always survives, Master. I want to find them." Morthain clasped his lightsaber in both hands.

"Risk losing you too, we cannot. I am sorry, Knight Li." The light slowly began to vanish. Yoda was drawing back energy. Though the old Master was the strongest Force-wielder in the Order, even he knew to not waste unnecessary power. At any moment, the Sith could break into the undercity, and into the Jedi's hidden stronghold. Eventually, it was just the dim orb it had first been.

Morthain was silent for a while. "I know. I understand."

"Sorry, I am." Yoda sighed. "To talk with this Sith prisoner, I intend." The old Master finally drew a book off the shelf; perhaps all along, he had known where it was, and his delays were only for this conversation. He pressed it into Morthain's hands. "Return this to my room. Go deal with this Sith, I will."

Morthain turned the book over, glancing at the spine. A history account of Naboo. He gave the Master a curious look.

"A book recovered from the remains of the Naboo Temple… perhaps by studying our history, understand our future, we will."

Morthain stood up and bowed formally to the Master. He clipped his lightsaber back to his belt and held onto the book. "I'll take care of it. The evacuations from Vee sector have gone smoothly…" _We're going to be living on the ground at this rate, _he thought. _But the ground is better than the Empire._

"What happened on Naboo, Master?" Morthain asked quietly. "Everyone says: it cannot be repeated, even the Sith. What exactly happened? Jedi and Sith fought—why? What brought about the end of the Jedi Order? You know what they say… those who don't know their history are doomed to repeat it. Why don't we know?"

Yoda gazed up at him. "So much has been lost, Knight Li. Perhaps, then, study that manuscript instead of worry about your friend, you should."

_Unngh…_ The Force flowed through Anakin Skywalker's mind, through his body and soul. He struggled to find that beacon of light in the dark place he floated. He was separate—his thoughts, his body, his sight, his hearing, his touch.

In this place, it was like the same place he saw his mother tormented, pleading for freedom.

In this place, he could see Padmé.

In this place, he could see the dark figure retreating and vanishing into—

Anakin gasped for breath and sat up. Outside, the sun was just rising. His sandwich lay scattered on the floor, cheese and meat that probably wasn't edible anymore. Or at least, not as good to eat as it had been the night before. He rolled back to his feet, checking for any enemies in the nearby vicinity. The air still smelled faintly of gasses.

But all of this he disregarded. He knew where the intruder was.

Anakin dashed out the door.


	8. Chapter 8 Dead Sith Tell No Tales

**-Chapter Eight-**

"_I've waited a long time for this moment, and you will not be the one to take it from me!" –Darth Crisis, former Lord of the Sith_

_As boring as security duty is, it still makes you look cool, _thought Tanon, sighing and shouldering his rifle. The weapons were all for show. Even the youngest Sith apprentices had evolved well beyond the need for menial weapons. But that didn't mean guns and sabers didn't look sweet, and anything that made explosions without requiring a focus and attunement to the waves of the Force, without requiring memorized spells—yeah, weapons were cool.

He examined himself in the mirror, brushing blond hair out of his eyes.

"You should get that rag cut," his Master commented from behind him. Tanon barely noticed, but now he did, and glanced back to Qui-Gon, tall and stoic with his black robes and polished black boots. Where the apprentice got to dress up as a security guard, only a badge declaring his rank in the Sith Order, the Master looked like a Sith Master. But even he wore a couple weapons.

Qui-Gon slammed a hat over Tanon's messy hair, pulling it over his eyes. "Heyyy," Tanon protested, pulling the hat back up. He tilted it cockily. "There we go."

"Yes, very cute." Qui-Gon rolled his eyes. "If you're done primping, I heard from Lady Nadira that my old apprentice has returned."

"Oh, joy, it's Lord Cynic," Tanon muttered sarcastically.

"It might be worthwhile to petition for that title, yes," Qui-Gon noted, for a moment amused. He tugged Tanon's hat into a less quirky position with the Force, stepping back once to give his apprentice the one-over. Tanon watched him in the mirror. The Sith Master nodded in approval. "You look fine. Any assassins and conspirators won't know what hit them."

_You're in a good mood today. _Tanon didn't mean to pry, but instinctively reached out to see what it was.

_Do you not normally think me pleasant?_

Tanon made a bit of a face, and elected to speak aloud instead. "Not always, Master Jinn." He clasped his hands and bowed formally.

_Strict, am I? _Qui-Gon stepped closer.

_Ahh… yes, Master._

Qui-Gon reached out and tilted Tanon's head back. Their eyes met. Tanon tried to glance away from his Master's burning blue eyes, but couldn't bring himself to glance aside. "You must realize, apprentice, that though I have no desire to raise Lord Stoicus the sequel, or another Lord Snark, neither do I wish to raise Lord Holoballous. I respect you as a person different from myself, different from Kenobi, and different from my teacher. But before you face your Trials, I would see you learn self-control, patience, and a greater control of the Force than hitting balls with staves can grant you. Had you not been Sensitive, I have complete faith that you would have made a professional ball team. As it is—" He released Tanon's face suddenly "—you are a Sith now, and I will see you become the best Sith that you are capable of becoming. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Councilor Serein," Tanon murmured. Sith names, earned at the passing of the Trials, were only used in the most extreme of situations, where the highest of ranks were commanded. Here, he spoke of Qui-Gon's second name to offer more respect than even 'Master Jinn' could have granted.

Qui-Gon nodded, and then the intensity in his eyes was gone. "Shall we go retrieve Kenobi?"

"Yes, Master." Tanon shot himself one last look in the mirror. Somehow, the view had changed, though. Rather than seeing a self-confident guard with an edgy do' and sleek weapons and armor, he saw an uncertain Sith apprentice with messy hair and clothes and weapons no Sith should've had to rely on.

He didn't see that dignity the Masters radiated.

Just Lord Selfconsciousious.

xxx

His apprentice had gone quiet. This was both, Qui-Gon thought, a negative and a positive. Certainly, for one, this meant that Young wasn't going on about the sports heroes of the latest game. The holoball season might have been done, but that just meant the next season of kickhacky was starting, and coverage of the GWWC in a couple weeks. Everything a growing boy needed: reruns of the holoball season, sports heroes captured in a glowing chamber with antigravity shoes chasing a blue ball with staves, a new season of kickhacky: five men all trying to get the misshapen hackyball into a net suspended a regulation three metres from the field, and, of course, the GWWC—steroid buffed gorilla-men trying to kill each other while fans screamed for more blood.

Yes, it was everything a growing boy needed. It wasn't to say Qui-Gon hadn't had his fair share of sports heroes when he was young. He still enjoyed watching the occasional hacky game and had even participated for a few years on a netslam team.

_Then you met her._

He smiled wistfully. Tanon was quiet, and his Force presence was diminished. Something had—hopefully—penetrated his mind. And it gave Qui-Gon a chance to center himself, and let himself be distracted for a short while. He missed Thal. He still remembered her so strongly.

At least Kenobi still lived. The pain of loss was no stranger to any Sith. Qui-Gon idly wondered about Kenobi's mission—time travel, dimensional travel, these were the only breakthroughs the living had not yet managed. It was rumored the dead had no barriers. But dead men told no tales… and even dead _Sith_ were less capable of speaking than the living variant.

He reached out and found a thread in the Force, and that thread he followed towards its owner: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Darth Anochece. A name and a face he hadn't seen for a few months now. It was a shame, to always separate from one's apprentice. There was so much you could learn from them…

In his distraction, he walked right into Kenobi.

xxx

A hand clamped over his mouth. Anakin fought back a yell and instead, dropped, hurling the dark man to the ground. He pinned the man, tearing off his mask with one hand and reaching for his lightsaber with the other.

"Let's see who you are," the Jedi bit off, throwing the man's mask aside and igniting his lightsaber.

In that moment, he was thrown. The Force swept Anakin Skywalker off the once-masked man, flinging him to the ground and his lightsaber rolling away.

Anakin bounded to his feet. He beckoned with the Force. His lightsaber flew back into his hands. Just one little touch…

_Snap-hiss._

Blue swept around them.

Blue light highlighted his attacker's face. They paced around each other in the hall—the hall that led from the apartments to the more business oriented levels. To the cafeteria. To the training rooms. To the room of a Thousand Fountains. To the Jedi Archives…

To a familiar face.

"Obi-Wan?" Anakin breathed.

Words swept around him like a sudden tornado, catching Anakin and almost bringing him to his knees in shock from the clarity of the voice.

_That name holds…_

…_You have no right to call me by…_

…_My real name…_

…_For you, _Jedi_, I am Lord Anochece…_

_And that alone…_

_Stand down!_

In response, Anakin offered a formal lightsaber salute, and spun into an attack. Dark Obi-Wan—Anochece—fled towards Obi-Wan's room. Anakin's lightsaber cut into empty air. There was a thud as Anochece kicked the door open, reaching out with the Force once more…

Anakin—

—felt the effect wash out over his mind…

He hurled up a shield. The effect _shattered_. Splinters of the Force power seemed to fly out around them, as if it hadn't been just the mind—as if it had really been something _tangible…_

Obi-Wan's lightsaber was in the dark one's hand. There was a _snap-hiss. _The attacker fell into an unorthodox defense position.

_Has he ever handled a lightsaber before?_

No grace. There was none of that graceful, honed position Obi-Wan held in a fight. It was a desperate response. Anochece's defense…

…_Is full of holes…_

Blue on blue. Anakin snarled and swung into his lightsaber. Sparks flew. He threw his weight into it. _He's not fast enough…_

…_The blade is unfamiliar…_

…_He's never used a lightsaber…_

A gesture. Anakin jerked out of the lock a moment too late. A blue static took hold of his lightsaber and it held there, sticking in the middle of the air as if some otherworldly force had fingers wrapped around it. Anakin grabbed it and yanked, throwing his effort into freeing his lightsaber from that field of static—

Anochece gasped a guttural word. The air—

—Expanded with a bang. Anakin slammed into the wall, just missing the door. His lightsaber clattered to the ground, each component separated. He swore and bounded back to his feet.

Anochece still held out his right hand, a blue haze wrapped around it. The same sort of blue static—some sort of ethereal mist. _The Force. It has to be the Force…_

His feet left the ground. It seemed like a dream—the moment he slammed back into the wall and found himself limp on the floor woke him up. Anakin caught himself—caught himself falling and back to his feet. He tried.

He couldn't move.

_Child's weapon…_

…_Useless toy…_

Anakin reached out with the Force and _pulled_. Obi-Wan's lightsaber was still there. Still within reach. Whether or not Anochece held it…

…_Do you honestly think you could do something with that _toy_, Jedi…_

A command screamed into his mind.

_Sleep!_

It ripped through every cell, every fragment of his consciousness: every pain, every pleasure, every reality he could cling to was torn away in the aftermath of that order.

Anakin had no choice but to obey.


End file.
